Paint Me Blood Red
by Trixen
Summary: Seventh Year. On the train to Hogwarts a series of events take place foreshadowing a horrendous year. Hermione is trapped inside her own mind with feelings she's never known. Will no one help her?
1. Chapter One

Hermione stepped onto Platform 9 3/4, her curly, brown hair floating in the slight September breeze. She handed her trolley to a loading man and proceeded onto the Hogwarts Express, a feeling of sorrow filling her heart as the realization that she'd only step foot on the train one more time after this. She wiped at her eyes, being careful to look around and make sure no one had seen her silent tears. She walked along the corridor of the train, stopping at each compartment door and listening for her friends voices. She found the right compartment at last, and upon opening the door, she was immediately welcomed by Ginny, who practically attacked her. Hermione hugged the girl back and gave the same embrace to Harry and Ron before sitting in the empty space next to Ron. After a small moment of silence, the compartment was filled with the noise of conversation. Hermione listened much more than she spoke. She'd been in a sort of trance when the door of the compartment opened, which is why it took her a moment to realize that Draco Malfoy had interrupted the conversation her friends had been having. He wore his signature smirk and appeared to have given apalling news. 

"What?" Hermione was clueless.

"I said, Granger, that I'm Head Boy this year. Don't you ever clean out your ears, mudblood?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the same name that he'd been calling her since her second year at Hogwarts. She'd been hoping for a bit more originality from the boy who'd been trying hard to rival her own grades at school, but apparently he wasn't as brilliant as he tried so hard to be. She stood up and reached into her pocket and withdrew her hand and flashed her Head Girl badge at him.Draco only laughed at her. "Did you really think that I was that naive, Granger?"

Hermione glared at him. "Do you really think I'm that stupid, ferret?"

Draco glared back. They stood there for a moment, he staring into her brown eyes, she staring into his grey ones. Ginny coughed, breaking the silence and the glare. Draco smirked at Hermione once more before turning around and leaving the compartment. Hermione threw her badge at the door in frustration. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Ron. She'd known him for so long, and the hand on her shoulder was a simple gesture of the fact that he understood how she felt. She knew these things, but it didn't stop her from suddenly feeling self conscious. Suddenly it felt as if her blue button up shirt was too tight and the black jeans she wore made her too hot. Ron released her shoulder and sat back down, completely unaware of the internal struggle Hermione was having. Hermione couldn't do anything about how she felt, couldn't even fathom why one simple touch could make her feel that way.

She attempted to shrug the thoughts away, but it didn't work. She excused herself from the company of her friends to ook for an empty compartment so she could change and sort out her thoughts by herself. She walked up the train corridor listening at the doors. She finaly found one that sounded quiet and empty. Pulling open the compartment door, she found she'd been wrong. She stood in the doorway watching as Draco Malfoy snogged with Pansy Parkinson. She was dumbfounded and embarrassed. Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

Pansy had opened her eyes. She moved her head slightly and saw a shocked Hermione. She stopped Draco and pointed up at Hermione.

"Looks like someone wants to join in." Draco turned to look at Hermione.

She blushed. "No, I ... excuse me."

She turned to leave, but Draco grabbed her wrist. She turned and slapped him on impulse, the smack of flesh on flesh seemed to echo in the quiet compartment. Draco rubbed his cheek, which had become crimson and stood out blazingly on his pale skin. His grey eyes were amused. "Not bad, Granger. Have you been practicing?"

Hermione opened her mouth to counter him, but he cut her off.

"It's not good enough though, I'm afraid."

He motioned for Pansy to leave them. She gave him a look of protest, but said nothing as she stood up and left the compartment. Draco flung Hermione to the floor of the compartment and closed the door that he was sure Pansy had left open purposely. Hermione stood up and picked up the clothes had flung from her arm when Draco had thrown her. He looked at her bundle of clothing and then at her.

"Get changed and let me know when you're finished."

He left the compartment, leaving her to do as she was told. She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the Head Girl badge. She hadn't remembered picking it up, she only knew that it had found its way back into her pocket. She began to sob. In one day it had seemed that everything had come crashing down. She couldn't make sense of her thoughts and it frightened her.

"Looks like someone wants to join in."

Pansy's words came floating back into her head, causing her to blush and become furious at herself. She undid the pin on the back of the badge and slashed it across her left forearm. The red blood oozing from her calmed her a bit, but not enough. She did it again. Harder, faster, deeper she sank the metal into her skin. Malfoy knocked on the door.

"You done in there yet?"

Hermione glanced at the puddle of blood that was forming on the floor. She'd left her wand back in the compartment with her friends, ther was no way to cover it up. Draco would find out.

"Just a minute," she whispered.

Pain shot through her arm as she moved to change. By the time she'd changed into her white blouse, her skirt, and her Gryffindor robe, blood was seeping through everything. She was pulling on one of her shoes when Draco burst into the room.

"I couldn't wait any long-"

His eyes fell to the puddle of blood on the floor.

"Bloody Hell, mudblood, what have you done?"

Hermione said nothing, just finished putting on her shoes and pinned her badge to the front of her robe.

"Didn't you hear me?"

Hermione glanced up at Draco then at the blood on the floor. She grasped her left arm defensively, the blood in the fabric bubbling slightly at her touch.

"What do you want me to say?"

The question was more to herself than to Draco, her voice emotionless.

"It would seem," he began. "That I have nothing to do here, you've already taught yourself a lesson."

Hermione grabbed her clothes and ran from the compartment, unaware that blood continued to seep from her arm and was now soaking everything she held. Tears streamed down her face as she made her way back to the compartment her friends were in. She flung open the door, startling Harry, Ron, Ginny, and now Neville. Harry was the first to react.

"Hermione?" he asked, uncertain of how to continue. His eyes fell on the blood soaked clothing she clutched tightly.

She attempted to ignore him and grabbed her wand from the space next to Ron. He reached out to touch her, but she stepped away from him.

"Don't touch me," she breathed.

"Hermione, wai-"

She ran from the compartment and slammed the door shut. She ran down the corridor, with one thing on her mind, and one thing only: an empty compartment. What she got was completely different. She smacked into Draco Malfoy with such a force that she not only dropped everything she clutched, but caused a sickening thwack to be created as her bloody arm made contact with his and her bellies.

He grabbed her arm and forced her to lift her chin and look at him. He studied her face with a steady gaze that caused a shudder to go through her body, a shudder that she did involuntarily in his clutches. Then she blacked out.


	2. Chapter Two

Her limp body in his arms would have given him a feeling of satisfaction if he weren't head boy, and her unconsciousness were by caused by something other than cutting. Right now, things were serious, and while he'd love to leave her somewhere and go find Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy again, he knew that he needed to take action. He half carried, half dragged Hermione's limp body into the compartment in which he'd only moments ago enjoyed a snog session with Pansy. He had just propped her up onto the right side bench when her eyes shot open and she grabbed her arm, groaning.

"What are you playing at Malfoy?" Ron's voice threatened from the compartment doorway.

"Shut it, weasel. This isn't my doing, is it mudblood?" He knew that in this situation, name calling wasn't a very brilliant thing to do, but the last thing he wanted was an interrogation from the golden trio.

Hermione wanted to punch him, wanted to scream at him, wanted to murder everyone, but she couldn't. All she could do was keep herself from crying from the excruciating pain shooting through her arm due to her own self-inflicted wounds. Her blood caked hand squeezing her sleeve and arm only made a sickening squishing noise that openly bothered everyone. Ron and Harry stood in the doorway to the compartment that Draco had brought her into.

"I...I..." Her voice wavered, making her hate herself more.

She wanted more than anything to shut them all out, to close herself off, to be alone and go into the eternal slumber in which so much was unknown.

"Tell them," Draco hissed. His eyes showed little concern, but she knew that he felt a little responsible.

She squeezed her arm tighter, causing pain to shoot through her arm even more. She cried out and Harry ran into the compartment and knelt down in front of her.

"Show us," he demanded.

His green eyes were concerned, but Hermione didn't feel like complying to his demand. It was demands that made her do this in the first place. When someone asked you to do something, you had the power to say no. A demand was different. A demand made you feel obligated, trapped. That was it. That was how she felt. Trapped.

"No!" She shouted at Harry and stood up. "Blame it on him all you want," she said, releasing her arm and pointing a blood-caked finger at Draco. "But it's not just his fault. It's yours as well. I'm always being told what to do. Someone always has a new command for me, and I, being a loyal and helpful person, complied."

She was hurting them, she knew it, but she had to let it out, had to let them know how they made her feel.

"You," she turned on Harry. "Fifth year you ranted about how you were always the one who fought Voldemort and won. But guess what? Without Ron or my help, you'd have died every time, Harry. You aren't a miracle child, you need help too!"

Harry was taken aback. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, fearing how enraged Hermione become.

"And you Ronald," she continued. "If you only knew how badly you hurt me. I dare say that you've hurt me more than this fat headed bloke could ever try to hurt me," she said, jabbing a thumb toward Draco. "All those arguments and accusations... do you even know how you feel? Or how you make me feel...?"

Ron was crushed. All those times he wanted to say what was truly on his mind was sky rocketing through his brain. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her and take away her pain. He wanted to be her everything and nothing, and yet, even now he was to afraid to confess it.

Tears now rolled openly down her cheeks. "Get out," she said flatly. Harry looked helplessly at her while Ron just stared at the floor in the compartment doorway. Draco only smirked. "I said get out!"

Harry turned and grabbed Ron and continued back to their compartment. Draco looked at Hermione, his smirk malicious after witnessing what he considered the first crack in the golden trio.

"Great job, mudblood," he said, walking toward the doorway. He turned to her once more. "There's hope for you yet." He closed the compartment door and went off to find his friends.

Hermione felt empty. The tears rolling down her cheeks seemed hollow. She'd confessed how she felt in the worst of company, and when she expected a reply from her dearest friends, they gave her none. She felt as if she was in a spiral of emotion, slowly spinning downward, toward certain doom.

When the train stopped a few hours later, Hermione had bandaged her arm and composed herself. She wasn't about to let her personal feeling and emotions get in the way of her duties as head girl.

Draco had opened the compartment door, expecting to see a bloody suicidal mess and was amused to see that she had regained her prissy self.

As much as she wanted everything to be normal, Hermione knew thatit wouldn't. She sat with Ron and Harry during the sorting ceremony, but there was a sad awkward silence that surrounded them. Ron's usual appetite seemed stifled and he poked at the meal that sat before him after the ceremony was over. Harry stared blankly at his crushed, red headed friend before him and fought back his own set of tears.

When dinner was over, the prefects of each house took each of the years to their rooms, while Hermione and Draco met up with the heads of their house and Professer Dumbledore. Dumbledore seemed tired, Hermione noted as his eyes met hers. "It is to my understanding that there was a turn of events on the train this afternoon that were rather... unsavory." Hermione let her head hang in shame. "Therefore, I asked our own Madame Pomfrey to make something to make such wounds heal faster," he held out a strange vial of a glowing amber liquid out to Hermione. She accepted it, looking at the headmaster with tears in her eyes.

"Now, I must be off to my study. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, feel free to show them to their tower."

The climb to their tower seemed to last a lifetime. Neither Snape, nor McGonagall had spoken a word after the headmaster had left them. The silence didn't bother Hermione too much, it just seemed odd that the professers hadn't even briefed them on their duties, even though she already knew what her duties were.

Up and up they climbed, moving staircase after moving staircase, and it was at that moment Hermione began to wonder just how big the Hogwarts castle truly was. She tried to remember if it was mentioned in Hogwarts: A History, but no sooner had she begun to concentrate on all the facts contained within the large book's pages, had they reached the Head tower and the portrait that guarded the doorway.

Snape and McGonagall moved aside and Hermione peered at the portrait of none other, than Sir Cadogan, the very same portrait who had once protected, or at least had been appointed to protect, the Gryffindor common room when the Fat Lady had been attacked by Harry's God father, Sirius during their third year. Seeing Sir Cadogan brought back both good and bad memories that only added to Hermione's already somber mood.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall spoke finally. "We trust that both of you know your duties as head boy and girl, therefore, we will leave you now... but first..." Professer McGonagall turned to address Sir Cadogan. "Do remember that passwords are not toys, you are not to change the password under any circumstances whatsoever due to boredom." Sir Cadogan bowed deeply. "Aye madam, know that this tower is safe! I shall guard it against any knave who tries to enter it without the password!"

Professer McGonagall smiled at the portrait. "I'm sure that you will. Blasphemous Scoundrel!"

The portrait swung open revealing a hallway. Draco walked forward into the hall, while Hermione watched the two professers leave, then followed after him.

The hall was lighted on either side by oil lanterns and was made of dark cherry stained oak. It opened into the common room, which was rather plain, yet elegantly decorated. A black couch covered in a synthetic velvet material sat in front of a fairly large fire place with silver and gold throw pillows resting on either side of it. To the left of the couch sat a large black chair that was covered in the same material as the couch. A lighter cherry stained oak coffee table sat in front of the couch. Beyond that, two small tables sat on either side of the common room against the walls. Spare parchment and quill containers sat on top of them. The one on the right was embellished in the Gryffindor symbol, while the one on the left was embellished with the Slytherin symbol. Wooden chairs sat next to the tables. A giant throw rug sat dead center of it all containing the Hogwarts crest. Beyond the tables on either side of the room, were two hallways. The right hall, Hermione assumed, was her own bedroom and lavatory, and the left hall was Draco's. Two spiral staircases next to their halls led upward in the tower to what appeared to be a small library as well as astronomy area.

Hermione made for her hallway, feeling overwhelmingly tired.

"Just where do you think you're going, mudblood."

"To my room, Malfoy, to sleep. It shouldn't be hard for a ferret to understand, but I suppose since you aren't a natural ferret it is."

"Don't forget who you're talking to Granger. I have some rather huge connections, so I wouldn't forget it."

"Are you threatening me Malfoy?" She enquired as she turned around, but he'd already disappeared down his own hall and slammed his door shut.


	3. Chapter Three

Hermione awoke with an slight "oof" of surprise as her cat Crookshanks hopped onto the bed and her stomach. She grimaced at the pain in her arm and rolled over onto her right side to look at the vial that Dumbledore had given her the night before on the side table that sat there. She'd been too tired to take it last night, so tired in fact that she had walked very much like the dead and fell on top of her bed and fell asleep in the position she'd landed. 

Glancing around her, she noticed that the room wasn't very large. The stone floor had a single Gryffindor rug on it that ran from the doorway to her bed. Her four-poster bed was the usual twin sized bed that she'd grown accustomed to in the Girl's dorms in Gryffindor. Scarlet drapes and linens covered the bed, accented with a deep yellow stitching. Her comforter was scarlet and heavy with goose feathers and it's warmth enveloped her.

Sitting up, she noted that her side table was rather simple and made of the same light stained oak that the furniture in the common room was made of. A single drawer resided within the table, and upon opening it, she found it was empty, save for the fake red velvet material that lined it. A small oil lamp sat on top of it, which sat behind the vial of glowing amber liquid.

She picked the vial off of the table and held it in front of her face. 'How much of this am I supposed to take?' she wondered. She uncorked it and sniffed it, a small scent of vanilla and pumpkin spice filled her nostrils and embraced her senses. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth, pouring the liquid into her mouth. It's consistency reminded her of the cough syrup she used when at home, the taste however was rather extraordinary for medicine. She re-corked the vial, which was now missing a third of the liquid than it had before she'd decided to take it. She swallowed the concoction in her mouth, loving the strange flavor that the medicine had.

Her wounded arm began to tingle. She held it out and pulled back the stiff, blood encrusted sleeve to peer down at it. The scabs looked angry and inflamed. A warm, almost burning sensation ran through each of them, and she watched as the scabs slowly healed themselves until finally, no scabs remained, only silvery-pink scars that served as a reminder of yesterday's events on the train.

Hermione stood up and looked around the room for the first time. A desk that matched the one in the common room, Gryffindor symbol and all, sat under a rather large window, that almost seemed pointed at the top, but was still slightly curved. A small fire place inhabited the far wall from her bed. She walked around to the left of her bed and discovered a small book case that was stained as dark as the common room hall. Just a few inches beyond that was a doorway, that she knew lead to her lavatory. She looked around the room once more, to see if she'd missed anything and was slightly disappointed that the room was so plain. The only other things in the room were her trunk and a wide eyed Crookshanks who was eyeing her curiously.

She sighed and walked toward the lavatory door. She wasn't going to get her hopes up for anything spectacular. She opened the door, and was grateful that she hadn't expected anything. A tub sat almost to her immediate right with golden feet. A small shower head portruded from a short wall that seperated the tub from the toilet. A scarlet curtain ran on a track from the ceiling and connected to the wall for easy opening and closing access. A single sink with a small vanity mirror graced the center of the room on the left. The walls were all decorated in white tile and a small shower rug sat in front of the tub. A small rectangular window resided on the back wall and a single lamp hung down in the center of the room. She flicked a light switch, only slightly amused that this room had electricity and her own bedroom had none.

After taking a shower, dressing, and primping herself so that her hair didn't frizz up into something that resembled something Crookshanks might spit up, she set out for the great hall, her stomach growling in anticipation of food. The common room lacked a certain blonde headed Slytherin and she wondered if perhaps he'd beaten her out the door. She took the steps slowly, unconsciously counting them and thinking of other things, mainly Harry and Ron.

She'd said a lot on the train yesterday, things she regretted and had to set right. Apologizing to Harry would be a bit more simplistic than apologizing to Ron would. What she'd said to Harry was hardly much to worry about really, but Ron... she'd finally let it out about how she felt about him. Granted, she hadn't told him that everytime she'd been with Viktor Krum during fourth year that she'd been thinking of him, that when she and Viktor decided to just be great friends and write each other occasionally, she'd usually put in her feelings toward Ron within them. And she'd never let on that when they were attacked in the Ministry their fifth year that the only thing she was thinking about was how to keep him safe. It would be very hard to patch up the holes she'd ripped in the friendship she shared with him.

She reached the doors of the great hall and opened them. The tables were all in their usual place with Slytherin on the far left, Hufflepuff next, Ravenclaw, and on the far right, Gryffindor. She scouted for her fellow classmates, attempting to drown out the loud roar of happy voices and only slightly avoiding peckish first years. She caught sight of two red heads and a particularly messy black set of hair and set out toward them. She sat down next to Harry, who was engaged in a conversation with their friend Neville Longbottom in what seemed to be their frantic worrying about how hard Snape's class would be this year since N.E.W.T.S. now loomed over their heads. Ron only appeared to be half listening, and Ginny, who sat to his left was engaged in conversation with Lavender. To Ron's right sat Seamus, another of their friends, who was adding in his own bits of conversation to Harry's and Neville's. To her left sat Parvati, who was talking with Lavender and Ginny.

Hermione cleared her throat and said only slightly loudly "Good morning everyone."

She regretted it almost immediately, because everyone hushed at the sound of her voice and stared at her. Ginny was the first to speak, her face distorted in a look of fear and concern at the same time.

"Hermione... are you feeling... better today?"

She looked down at her empty plate and thought. Was she feeling better? Well, other than the giant disappointment that she felt about her rooms, she hadn't felt too bad. Her stomach growled, causing her to return back to the question that hung in the air.

Hermione smiled. "I'll feel a lot better once I've gotten a meal inside of me, but other than that, yes, I'm feeling loads better."

Ginny let out a visible sigh of relief. "I'm so glad Hermione!" She nudged Ron. "We all are."

She looked around at her friends and noted that Neville, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati did seem relieved and glad. Ron's face was still glum however, and Harry's smile was noticeably forced. She set a hand out in front of Ron, grabbing his and Harry's attention.

"Can we talk? After breakfast I mean...?"

Harry's face fell again, but this time, it was serious with a hint of determination.

"Sure, Hermione. We can talk." He kicked Ron underneath the table. "Can't we Ron?"

"Yeah," Ron said, rubbing his leg where Harry had kicked him, his voice sad. "We can talk."

After the meal, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the Gryffindor common room to talk. Harry sat on the couch, while Ron sat in a wooden chair at one of the tables. Hermione was the only one still standing, pacing actually, as she thought of how to begin.

"Harry, what I said on the train yesterday... well I... I just want to say I'm so-"

"No, Hermione, you don't have to aplogize about that. You're right, I do need the help of my friends. You may not realize it, but I have... you and Ron are the only family I really have. The Dursley's, they aren't family... and Sirius..." His voice hitched. A tear rolled down his eye. "Well, that's not what I'm getting at. What I'm trying to say is that without you and Ron, I'm lost. Without you two, I'd have never made it this far, and these past years wouldn't have been nearly as great." Harry stood up and crossed the room and caught Hermione in a hug. The hug told her that not only did Harry forgive her, he also loved her dearly as a sister and was worried about her well being. He released her and a heavy silence filled the air.

She stared at Ron, who in turn stared back at her. His face seemed relax, but his eyes still seemed sad.

"Ron, I... Well, I... I..." She fumbled, her words seemed to be coming out of someone else's mouth. This couldn't be her. She never wavered with anything. Where was her confidence? Why was this so hard to say?

She took a deep breath, trying to regain the composure that she'd lost.

"Ron, I... I think I love you."

A lump formed in his throat. He hadn't expected to hear those words to come out of her mouth. He opened his mouth, let out a sound resembiling a squeak, then closed it again. If ever there was a time to confess his feelings for her, it was now. But deep down, he knew that if he did, their friendship, the golden trio, would waver and seem awkward. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't allow a relationship to blossum between them.

"I'm so sorry Hermione..." he stood up, tears brimming in his eyes. "I'm sorry but I can't return those feelings."

Hermione stood there for a moment, letting his words sink in. The hollow feeling was back, and suddenly she felt as if she was drowning, her head slipping beneath dark, murky waters as she gasped for air. It was then that she ran from the Gryffindor common room, ignoring Harry's concerned shouts, through the corridors and up the moving staircases, up all two hundred and thirty-seven stairs that it took to get to the head tower. She stopped only for a moment to get the password to Sir Cadogan between gasps for air. Once the portrait had opened, she'd stumbled in and crumbled on the rug with the Hogwarts crest. Her lungs burned, her eyes stung, and she couldn't imagine a hurt worse than the hurt that she felt now.

How had she mis-read him? For years she'd thought about him, dreamt about him, yearned to be his, and she thought that his sentiments were the same. But it appeared that she was wrong. Wrong about everything. Miss know-it-all didn't really know it all, in fact, she seemed to nothing at all. Nothing about feelings, about relationships, about herself, about love, nothing.

She let out a loud sob that caused her whole body to shudder. The tears brimmed and spilled, crossing the bridge of her nose and falling onto the rug.

She laid there and allowed herself to cry until she couldn't cry anymore. Her tears left a cold, damp spot that her face laid in, and all that she felt was hollow, as if there weren't anymore substance to her.

"Are you ever going to get up, or are you going to sit there and wollow in self pity all day. You have classes tomorrow, shouldn't you be attempting to learn something before you fail your N.E.W.T.S., mudblood?"

"You know nothing about me, Malfoy." She rubbed at her eyes then sat up to face him.

"Just as you nothing about me, Granger. So, I don't see a point to where this..." he made a gesture with his hands. "Conversation, if one could call it that, is going."

"You know, after so many years of humiliation, you think you'd lose your cocky edge. Yes, everyone knows who your father is, what your father does, who your father supports, but if you're an mirror image of your father, then we have nothing to fear from him, now do we? Harry's filled us in about your fear of the forbidden forest, how you took off running at the hint of something strange happening. Second year was a new low for you, as Harry beat you on the quidditch field, proving his abilities as a seeker. I daresay I did a fairly good number on you with that slap in third year-"

Draco's face was fierce and rigid. "What are you getting at? You think you're so much better than everyone else, but you're no better than anyone. You're a muggle born, and being muggle born is nothing to be proud of."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not _everyone_ else, Malfoy. Just you. And blood has nothing to do with how good a witch or wizard is. No wonder Crabbe and Goyle are always around you, you're as thick as they are! And that twit Pansy? She's got about as much brains as Millicent Bulstrode! The only difference is that Pansy doesn't have the physique of a man!"

She crossed the room, getting right into his face, her nose barely an inch from his.

"Get over yourself, Malfoy. Nobody likes a pig headed prat."

Draco's anger rose and he did the first impulsive thing he could think to do, he slapped her, flat handed, across the face. The sound of it echoed throughout the head common room and caused his hand to sting. Her eyes were wide, surprised that he had actually done something physical.

He took a step back from her, clenching the hand that he'd used to slap her into a fist.

"Perhaps you should take a bit of your own advice then, mudblood."

Ending Notes and Comments for Chapter Three---

A/N: I haven't done this yet, and I figured that it'd be appropriate if I did, even though I'm sure everyone can tell that I'm not J. K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters, if I did, I'd be attending the college of my choice this fall.

I realize this chapter is pretty boring, so I'm sorry if you're a bit put off by it. It's leading up to a grander scene though... Think of it as you would Hamlet or Titus by Shakespeare. No, I don't really intend to kill off everyone at the very end, that'd be too dramatic, but it's kind of like a short fuse, as soon as someone strikes it, all hell breaks loose.

As for my reviewers, I see so many other of my favorite fic writers do this, therefore, I shall do it as well.

**mysticallove:** I'm glad that you found it different and that it interests you enough to check back with my updates. Many people do try hard to make Malfoy a lot nicer and currently I haven't decided how subtle to make the change of his character, but I do know that I don't want to use the, what I believe to be, overused back story of his own father beating him. Whether this will be a love story or not, I can't rightly say just yet... I guess we'll both find out as my muse opens itself to me. Thanks for being my first reviewer!

**CoolChick0506:** I'm so glad you like it. I don't know about you, but I hate it with a passion when writers put more into the characters than they do into the setting. The setting is just, if not more important, as the characters in a story. I wanted to make them stand out in your mind, and I'm glad that I was able to do so. And if you are ever inspired enough to draw what I've written, I'd love to see your work!

**malfille:** Don't worry, I'm not in the slightest discouraged and I'm glad that you like the way I'm writing this story. Your constructive criticism is welcome at any point, and I'm glad that you have offered it, but in all reality, well the reality of the books, I doubt that Hermione would ever allow herself to get to the point of self mutilation. In fact, she'd probably give the person responsible a few slaps across the face before resorting to hurting herself. I know that seems a bit contradictory considering what I've written so far, but that's the wonderful thing about fan fiction, you can take something that someone else has created and spin it your own way. As far as how I've played out the blood... with one simple cut it would be rather hard to make a cut deep enough so that a torrent of blood would come rushing out of your body, especially with a pin. However, I didn't really say how many cuts that she made on her arm, only that she repeatedly cut herself, going harder, deeper, and faster with each stroke. Something like that in quick succession in the same area could do quite a bit of damage. Though I did over exaggerate a bit, I think that if I changed the fic to reflect that, it'd lose a bit of the dark feel that I want it to have. Do continue to give me pointers though, after all, in writing, there is always something that could be improved. Thank you!


	4. Chapter Four

Hermione didn't know how to react. For the first time in her life, she'd finally seen Malfoy hit someone, and she'd been on the receiving end of it. While the hit didn't pack much power, it stung her face, and she was sure that a crimson hand print was forming on her face. She stared at him, her eyes wide in disbelief that she'd actually pushed him to the point where he felt the reaction to hit someone. 

What he said was true, she knew it. She was in every way just as stubborn as he was. Granted, she was smarter than him and she cared more for the welfare of creatures like house elfs, but she was pig headed too. Perhaps that was the reason behind Ron's rejection, she was just too pig headed for him.

Malfoy was staring back at her, his gray eyes penetrating her, as if he could see every thought that was running through her mind. She lowered her gaze to the floor, bringing a hand absent mindedly up to her face and rubbing her stinging cheek.

She was lost in thought and he could tell. He felt the impulse to turn and go down the hallway into his room, but he felt that his presence marked something bigger. He couldn't make as big of an impact sulking in his bedroom, now could he? If there was one thing he wanted to do, it was putting this muggle born in her proper place. He couldn't stand the way she got under his skin, how quickly she was able to fire back retorts to his malicious words, and baffle him in every way. He'd never match her wits, and he'd come to terms long ago with that, it didn't take a genius to figure that out, especially since she outsmarted the Ravenclaws, the rumored and known intelligent witches and wizards of the school.

He was no nitwit though. He could hold his own in a duel, successfully create every potion that Snape assigned for them to learn, and so much more. His name had been soiled through the acts of his father, not that he cared much. He disliked his father, but still looked up to him through the very fact that his father had always been a confident man. If something didn't go according to plan, Lucius had always persisted, his determination often rewarding him with the things that he most desired. Draco liked to think of himself that way. When something didn't go according to plan, he pushed himself harder, with unmatched determination to achieve what it was he wanted in the first place. He may not be smarter than the bushy haired, muggle born in front of him, but that didn't mean he would give up.

When rumors started sixth year that he had was quite the "sex god," he was apprehensive. It was hard to put a stop to a rumor like that, especially when the real truth was that he had never had sex. Pansy had started the rumor, trying to talk herself up to their fellow Slytherin friends. In reality, while Pansy was a good snog, Draco hadn't thought much about going further with her. And while such things as sexual education weren't really promoted or taught at Hogwarts, he still knew the complications that sex could bring, as well as all of the consequences. He had tried to shut Pansy up, but she had talked him into it, making it seem that a rumor such as that wouldn't have a negative effect, but rather, a positive one, especially for his ego.

That was the last time he allowed himself to be talked into anything by Pansy. The effects of the rumor were nauseating. Instead of the pride and respect he'd get from his male peers, he got questions that he neither wanted to hear, or answer. Not to mention the giggling girls that swarmed around him in Slytherin and other houses whenever he did anything. He hated it with a passion, and if he could, he'd give his left arm to travel back in time and fix his mistake of being talked into the disgusting rumor that mocked his family name.

He came back to reality, noticing that Hermione had returned her gaze to him and a look of concern seemed to wash over her features.

She didn't know why she felt it, but in a way, she felt closer to Draco than anyone else in her life at the moment. Of course, saying that the blonde headed boy in front of her was a part of her life would be an exaggeration, he was much more like a road block. Yes, that was it, a terrible road block that no one could get rid of, no matter how hard they tried. Nonetheless, she felt a connection to that road block. Where the connection came from, she couldn't be sure, but it was there no doubt.

"Why?" she blurted, not realizing that she was thinking out loud.

Malfoy raised a brow at her in confusion. "Have you gone mental? Wait, that's an obvious question with an obvious answer considering I found you spilling your filth on that rug," he said pointing at the rug that she was standing at the edge of.

"Does it make you feel better, Malfoy?"

"What?" Yes, she had definitely gone mental.

"Does it make you feel better to belittle people? Do you get pleasure from other people's pain?"

Draco knew he was a pompous ass, and he knew what kind of an answer she was expecting to come out of his mouth. But for a moment he did have to ponder this question in its entirety. He was always mocking someone, whether it was Crabbe and Goyle's lack of intelligence or Scar Head for being... well, for just having a stupid scar on his forehead, and he'd always had someone to ridicule at home, like the house elfs... but did he enjoy it. There wasn't much to gain from it, though it was fun to see what kind of retort the one he was sneering at threw back at him, but other than that, he felt no real satisfaction from the whole ordeal. But it was better to get under Granger's skin since she got under his so much unknowingly. Just her existence seemed to be an annoyance for his whole life.

"What would you say if I did?" He smirked at her then, and she glowered up at him.

He'd never really noticed the height difference between them, but she was considerably shorter than him. He supposed that he'd never really noticed before since her hair seemed to poof up enough to give her a few extra inches. She didn't even have to stand on her toes to get those extra inches. He snickered at that thought.

"Is everything so wonderful for you? You know, maybe you're right, maybe I should take a bit of my own advice, but it'd do you a lot of good as well, you git. How can you possibly expect to connect with anyone when you're hurting them all the time?" With that, Hermione turned to leave, but was caught off guard as he reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned and slapped him, the same way that he'd slapped her.

Malfoy took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm himself. He'd never resorted to violence of the physical nature before this day, and he really didn't feel like giving Granger another imprint on her cheek.

He looked directly into her eyes, his anger swelling up inside of him. He brought her closer to his face.

"Don't you think for a minute that you have me all figured out, Granger. You're far too gullible if you believe every word that comes out my mouth." He brought his lips closer to her ear, his hot breath giving her a strange and scared feeling. "For someone so smart, you're so very ignorant."

He released her arm, turned on his heel and went down his hall and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione stood very still. She couldn't make sense of everything. The boy seemed like a living paradox. Did he always say one thing and mean another. He had still insulted her as well, that had to count for something right? He had to have gotten enjoyment out of that, hadn't he? She closed her eyes and shook her head. If classes were starting tomorrow she was going to have to regain control of the things that she'd lost in her life. She needed to take a trip to the library.

Five hours, two hundred and forty steps (not counting walking around in the library), and fifteen books later, she had reviewed all that she technically needed to review for her classes the next day. She was confident she'd excel in all of her classes, including the N.E.W.T. level potions class with Snape. But something didn't feel right and she knew what it was.

She replaced all of the books that she'd pulled down from various shelves around the library and set off in search of Harry and Ron. She knew how tense things were going to be, but she needed them, they were her comfort and her best friends. She turned and walked down a corridor, she was walking rather quickly, looking down at the floor, thinking of how to approach her friends now. She'd already managed to make another mess of things, was it really possible for them to welcome her with welcome arms once again? She took a deep breath and increased her speed, if she walked any faster, she'd probably break out into a jog. She made to turn left into another corridor, but something hit her, and she was knocked unconscious.

Ending Notes and Comments for Chapter Four

A/N: I'm not J. K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters, if I did, I'd have my own drum set and I'd own a replica of Violet's dress from Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events (I love that dress!)

Short chapter, and I'm sorry I took so long to update. Developing a sort of back story for Draco was kind of difficult for me to do. Hope it wasn't boring. Anyways, I have Prom tonight, but after this, I don't believe that anything else will really hinder my updates. Well, with the exception of my birthday in ten days and senior trip next month.

And to my lovely reviewers, I'm glad that you enjoy the story. I hope it isn't a big disappointment.

Expect a new chapter sometime tomorrow as well, because I plan to plant myself in front of the computer and get out everything that's in my head for this story as soon as possible, and I think tomorrow would be a good time to start.


	5. Chapter Five

"Peeves!" 

Harry and Ron had been walking through the corridors with one destination in mind: the library. They'd searched for her at the head's tower, but only found silence as no one had opened up at the portrait and Sir Cadogan had only called them names and refused to give up any information as to whether or not he'd seen the head girl.

They were both troubled by their friend's reaction when Ron had told her that he couldn't return the feelings that she had towards him, and while Harry knew that Ron desperately wanted to, he knew Ron was doing it for the sake of him, which made Harry feel the worst of the three. He hated to be the means of suffering for anyone, especially his friends. They were only a short ways away from the library when Peeves had begun to give them trouble. The mischievous ghost had picked up a vase and chucked it at them, which they were able to duck, but they weren't prepared for what had happened.

The vase had hit Hermione, square in the head, and she'd been knocked unconscious.

"The know-it-all doesn't know it all," the ghost mocked as he flew over the heads of the boys and disappeared through a wall.

"That no good ghost, I'd strangle him if I could," Ron grumbled angrily as the knelt down beside the unconscious body of Hermione.

Harry only sighed. "Come on," he said to Ron. "We'd better get her to the hospital wing."

Madame Pomfrey ushered them in, had them set the limp body of Hermione on a bed, and then ushered them out again, telling them that they needed to "prepare for classes since they begin tomorrow." Defeated, they had left, with plans to come in and visit her that night after dinner.

Hermione had awoken to an empty hospital wing. Her head pulsated and when she tried to sit up, it felt as if it were going to split open and she had no choice but to fall back on the downy, feather-filled pillow that cradled her head. She let out a groan and touched her head, discovering a bandage that rested above her right eyebrow. She fingered the bandage gingerly, tracing it, trying to remember what it was that would have caused her to need a bandage and to wake up in the hospital wing. It hit her then, that she'd gone off to look for Harry and Ron, and that something had come into contact with her head, after that, everything was blank.

Madame Pomfrey walked into the room, and upon seeing an awake Hermione, went to her side and immediately started administering medicine for her aching head.

"You know dear, you really ought to learn to stay out of the hospital wing. I'm beginning to think that you, Ron, and Harry have taken far too much of a liking with it."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. It was a sad but true fact that each of them had spent time in the hospital wing since their first year at Hogwarts.

"Madame Pomfrey," she wanted to know how she'd ended up in the hospital wing. "How did I get here?"

"While the rest of the dynamic trio brought you to my care. The boys had been heading toward the library when they had a bit of a run in with Peeves. That ghost, I don't know how our dear Headmaster handles his antics!"

"Peeves? What happened with Peeves?"

"Well, you know Peeves, his consideration of entertainment almost always seems like someone else's pain. He'd picked up a vase near the spot, and thrown it at Ron and Harry. What they didn't know when they ducked was that you'd been coming around the corner as well, so you took the vase square in the head. Now sit up dear, and take this."

Hermione sat up and winced in pain. She took a small medicinal cup from Madame Pomfrey and drank the medicine that it contained. The brown liquid was tart and bitter, and the only flavor that she'd been able to detect tasted much like lemon. It only took a few minutes before she felt better again and Madame Pomfrey allowed her to leave.

Despite her grumbling stomach's protests, she decided that she ought to just go to sleep. She had classes the next day, and she'd had much more excitement than she wanted for the first two days back at Hogwarts. Walking up the stairs to get to the head's dorms, she recounted the events of the day in her mind. Once again, she wondered about Draco, becoming caught up in their little debate about themselves.

She supposed that because they were head boy and head girl that they should form a truce and attempt to be civil to each other. Hermione wondered how she could possibly propose something like that to him, considering they both pretty much hated each other. It wouldn't have been so bad if he were only a bit more accepting. When she'd first come to Hogwarts, all she wanted was to have friends. Enemies definitely weren't within her agenda.

On the train, everyone had seemed at least partially friendly. Hermione's bossy nature made her appear demanding, and so her quest for friends was almost immediately closed off. People turned her away, and she'd ended up only making friends at first because of Neville. He'd been showing her his toad, Trevor, when it jumped out of his lap, onto the floor of the train, and down the corridor. Due to his fast friendship, she headed after it, determined to find it for him. She'd met Harry and Ron that day during her search.

She remembered how they hadn't gotten along at first, Ron disliking her most of all because of her bossy, know-it-all attitude. But they'd gotten past all that. When the troll attacked Hogwarts because of Professor Quirrel's schemes to get philospher's stone that year, she'd taken the blame for them because they'd saved her life. They'd been practically inseperable after that, and she loved them dearly, Harry as if he were a brother, and well.. Ron..

She arrived at the portrait of Sir Cadogan feeling exhausted. She muttered the password to the obnoxious knight and entered the common room, collapsing on the couch and falling asleep.

"If you're really that tired, Granger, I suggest you sleep in your quarters."

"Oh!" She awoke nearly immediately to the sound of Draco's voice. She sat up groggily, and rubbed at her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Half after seven, you've missed dinner, but I suppose anyone who had been hit in the head with a vase would want to sleep."

"How did you-"

"Gryffindorks. Can't let a matter sit even if it sat on them. Your friends Potty and Weasel and the littlest Weaslette tried to follow me up here, but I told them to shove off before I took fifty points from each of them."

"Oh." They'd been looking for her. Ron had been looking for her. Her heart skipped a beat and she smiled.

Draco turned to go into his room.

"Malfoy?"

"What is it?" He turned to face her, his face showing irritablity and impatience.

"I've been thinking and-"

"Must hurt."

"What?"

"Thinking. It must hurt you." He smirked at her.

"Fine, then, forget it." Already she felt angrier than she had earlier.

He let out a sigh then, obviously growing tired of the things that were happening between them. "If you can't take a joke, than you're much more of a party killer than I thought."

"You? Joke?" She scoffed. "Just because you think something is funny, doesn't mean it isn't hurtful or offensive to someone else."

"All right, out with it, what is it you wanted to say to me? Or was it your plan to mock my intelligence and beliefs once again?"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort then closed it again.

"I'm sorry." She couldn't believe she was apologising to him. "I wanted to say that I think we need to attempt to be more civil. Not just to each other, but everyone. We're head boy and head girl, our peers and younger students here at Hogwarts look up to us, we can't display constant violence and vulgarity..."

He was smirking again. Hearing her apologise to him had made him do it without even knowing. "Is that all?"

She sighed. "Yes, that was all."

He stood there staring at her, seeing her finally in a new light. Never before had he had a conversation with this girl, and while in previous years he'd have wretched at her, he couldn't help but feel a bit of a connection with her. He'd gotten her to think a bit more cautiously, and she was already working at molding his behavioral patterns. He couldn't help but feel curious about what she'd have him feeling and doing next.

"So?" Her voice was curious and impatient.

"Hm? Oh. I'll think about it." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked down his hall and into his room.

She stared after him, at his closed door. There was something different going on, something strange in the air, a new sort of attitude that she wasn't sure she was ready for. It was better not to dwell on it, she decided, and she too, went into her own room to sleep.

Ending Notes and Comments for Chapter Five

A/N: I'm not J. K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters, if I did, I'd have a totally awesome laptop with all the hook ups.

More conversation going on, I hope it's left you feeling a bit more intrigued.

**mysticallove:** I hope you have a fantastic time at Prom! I had a blast at my own. We performed Thriller in the middle of it. My friends (there were about six of us) and I got the dj to play the song and we were able to give Prom a bit of a highlight. I was so tired when I got home, but it was worth it. Malfoy has a few sparks flying in front of his eyes, he's just failed to really become awakened by them. We'll see if he'll get any great feelings in the next chapter. This could or couldn't be a hint. wink

**notDavidtalbotP:** I'm glad you enjoy the story!

**r-k-bubblez:** I'm glad that you like the story. Share! Share! I love getting reviews and reading what everyone has to say, and if your friends are into stories like this, well then I hope I don't disappoint.

**CoolChick0506:** I'm hoping that I'm not being to evil with cliff hangers and the like. Feel free to throw vegetables and such at me if I am. Hope you liked this chapter as well!


	6. Chapter Six

Hermione's eyes shot open to darkness. She blinked and rubbed her eyes in confusion, trying to adjust to the darkness surrounding her. She rolled over onto her side. She reached out a hand, blindly searching for her wand, which she remembered placing on the side table. Her hand found the wand, and she enclosed her fingers around it. 

"Lumos," she muttered. The wand's tip lit up and she blinked once more adjusting her eyes once more. Crookshanks lifted his head up to look at her in confusion. He was curled up at the foot of the bed, and apparently he'd not been woken up like Hermione had. He laid his head back down while Hermione looked around her room.

Her eyes were wide, as she was sure that something was in her room, something must've woken her up. Her eyes darted here and there, looking for signs of someone else in her room. She curled her body around the side of the bed and looked underneath it. Nothing there. She pushed back the bed sheets and stood up. She crawled under the bed and scooted herself to the other side of it. She peered out and looked around once more. Nothing on the other side.

_The lavatory..._ She pushed herself out from underneath the bed and crept toward the opened lavatory doorway. She jammed herself against the wall, took a deep breath, then quickly whirled around the corner.

In reality, there was nothing there, but to Hermione, a dark shadow loomed before her.

"Who are you?" she demanded of the shadow. "Show your face."

The shadow said nothing, only towered before her.

"If this is your idea of a joke once again, Malfoy, then you need to give it up. Clearly you can see that I don't find this funny in any way..."

The shadow moved forward, moving toward her.

"Stay where you are!" she yelled at it, moving backward.

Crookshanks, who had jumped down to investigate what it was that Hermione was doing, rubbed against her leg and looked up her, his eyes questioning the situation that he couldn't see.

"Crookshanks," Hermione addressed the cat, not removing her gaze from her imaginary shadow. "Run," she whispered, falling to the ground unconscious.

* * *

Draco awoke to light shining in his face. He kicked at his bed sheets, sending them flying off of him. It was a childish thing to do, he knew it, but it was something that he'd done since he was a boy, something that he tried desperately to hide away from the rest of Slytherins when he'd lived with them. Now that he had his own room, he could do it without worry. He stretched, his hands lightly hitting the wall as he pushed his arms outward. He sighed, then yawned contently as he rolled over and scratched his left side.

He got out of bed and crossed his own bare room to his lavatory. He turned on the shower, then urinated while it was warming up. He was ready for classes, and was looking most forward to potions, since it was rumored to be the hardest class N.E.W.T. level wise. He took his shower, thinking about everything that he was looking forward to. When he was finished, he wrapped a crisp, white towel around his waist and went back into his room to get into his robes. He pinned his head boy badge onto the front of his robes and proceeded out into the common room.

He'd expected to see Hermione sitting on the couch, ready for her own classes. The common room was empty however, and something inside him told him that something wasn't right.

Then he heard it, loud meowing coming from down the hall.

Her door was shut and he wondered why she hadn't gotten up to let her cat out herself. He walked down the hall prepared for an angry, sleepy Hermione to fling her door open at any time to shut up the cat, but as he crept closer, it seemed less and less likely that she would do such a thing. He opened the door slowly and Crookshanks ran out, rubbing against his legs and dashing back and forth between them. Draco peered his head into the room.

Her bed was messy, but otherwise there appeared to be no sign of life within the Gryffindor's room. He noted then, that the layout of the room was the same as his own, just with different colors and symbols decorating it. He stepped into the room and Crookshanks ran around the bed.

"Granger?"

He heard the cat meow, but nothing of the head girl. He walked around the bed, prepared for anything but what he found.

From the looks of things, Hermione had been attacked. Draco looked around him nervously, and checked everything, including the lavatory before attending to Hermione. She was sprawled on the floor, her wand had rolled out of her hand and lay underneath her bed. Blood encircled part of her head. Upon closer inspection, he deducted that she hadn't been attacked, but rather had fallen. What had caused her to fall abruptly, he didn't know, but he did know that she'd given herself a nasty head wound upon impact with the floor. He held his hand under her nose, checking for signs of breathing.

He was partially happy when he felt the rush of air against his hand, but couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into the super smart girl that lay in front of him. First the incident on the train... now this... it was highly unlike something he'd thought would happen with her.

"Granger!"

The girl in front of him didn't even flinch at the sound of his voice. Instead her lips curled into a smile, but she remained on the floor, eyes closed. He was unsure of just how much damage might have been caused by her fall, so rather than risk it, he decided to run and get someone who could help her.

He ran from the room then, Crookshanks trailing not far behind him. He ran out the doorway, through the common room, through the entrance hall, down all two hundred and thirty-seven stairs, through eight corridors, all the way to the Hospital wing. He was desperately out of breath, but couldn't help but be happy at the fact that his stamina was still the same shape as it had been the last year during Quidditch training.

"Mr. Malfoy? What on earth-"

"It's Granger!" he shouted at Madame Pomfrey. "Something's wrong. Blood. Won't wake up. Didn't know what to do."

Madame Pomfrey's eyes were alert now. "Where?" she demanded.

"Head's tower. Her quarters." He gasped for air and clutched to his sides, which now ached.

To his own amusement, Madame Pomfrey had taken off at a sprint. "Get the headmaster!" she yelled as she turned a corridor.

Draco began to jog this time, he jogged four corridors, went up a flight of stairs, down three more corridors and bumped into McGonagall.

"Mr. Malfoy. As head boy I'd expected-"

"It's Granger. Get the headmaster. Heads tower." His breath was ragged now.

"Right away, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall turned and jogged down another corridor, leaving him alone.

He collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

He couldn't understand why he was doing it, but it seemed like the right thing to do, helping Granger. He may not like the stuck up know-it-all, but that didn't mean she deserved to be left alone in a puddle of her own blood. Things were definitely different with her this year, and he was determined to find out what it was.

He watched as Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore jogged past him, going back in the direction that he'd just come. He pushed himself up, then, at a slow walk, he began to follow them.

End of Chapter Six and Comments- - -

A/N: I'm not J. K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters, if I did, I'd live in a mansion.

What's going on with Hermione? And is Draco getting softer toward her? Find out in chapter seven of Paint Me Blood Red.

Thanks for the comments you lovely people you. You know who you are winks. Without you I'd be sobbing in a corner eating a truck load of chocolate.


	7. Chapter Seven

"Ms. Granger, can you hear me?" 

Hermione could hear the headmaster, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't open her eyes. It was almost as if they were glued shut. Her entire body felt as if it were stuck to itself. She attempted to move a finger, but her attempt failed.

"What do you think it is, Albus?" McGonagall's voice was full of concern.

She was aware of movement all around her and estimated that at least five people were in the room.

There was a deep sigh that could only belong to Dumbledore.

"It would seem Minerva, that she has fallen into a depression so deep, that it has overwhelmed her body..."

Hermione could detect a small "oh my goodness" that sounded very much like Madame Pomfrey. She began making a list mentally of all the people around her. _Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey..._

"Is there anything we can do? There must be some way to cure her..."

"Unfortunately, depression is something that not even we here in the wizarding world have mastered. There are temporary things that can be done, but they ultimately only make things worse. No, I'm afraid that this is something Ms. Granger has to overcome on her own. Let's just hope that she is as strong as we all hope and that she'll be able to pull herself from the terrifying thresholds that have encased her at this time."

Hermione's brain was whirling. She was doing this to herself? What about what had happened only a short while ago. It had to still be night right? Malfoy must have run and gotten everyone when she'd fainted because he was scared. That had to be it. He had to be the same evil git that he'd been for the past six years...

"Poppy?" Dumbledore's voice had that knowing air about it.

_What does he know that I don't?_

"Sir?" Madame Pomfrey's voice sounded sad and lost, almost as if she too were undergoing a serious depression.

"I trust you will help Mr. Malfoy look after Ms. Granger?"

"Me?" The disgust in Malfoy's voice practically dripped from his mouth. "Why should I have to look after her? I didn't do this to her, and I have my own things that need to be tended to."

"Ah, yes Mr. Malfoy, indeed you do. But you see, being as you are head boy and you live in the same vicinity as the head girl, I trust you can spare a moment's time looking after Ms. Granger, seeing to her needs."

"And what could she possibly need that I could give her? She's like a vegetable!"

"Comfort, Mr. Malfoy. As all people need, she needs comfort."

He was outraged. Why should he have to look after a vegetable! She could do absolutely fine by herself. He didn't have time to babysit a know-it-all vegetated mudblood. Sure, she had tried to make amends, but that didn't mean that by requesting tolerence that he had to look after her. Comfort. Fie on comfort. He'd never truly had comfort, only material items. Why should she get anything different? Perhaps she'd be delighted with a very large pillow...

Hermione was troubled. She inhaled deeply and tried to open her mouth but only managed to let out an angry moan.

"It would seem that Mr. Malfoy isn't the only one outraged by that request, sir." McGonagall's voice sounded very close to Hermione this time, as if she were leaning over her. Amusement danced on her every word.

"Yes well, it is completely out of my hands." Though she couldn't see him, she knew that Dumbledore had a clever glint in his eye as he said this, and the slight plith noise she heard was him clasping his hands together.

_What shall I do about classes? Oh no!_ Hermione attempted to move once more, willing her brain to work for her just once, like she really wanted it to.

"Now, now, Ms. Granger, don't distress yourself anymore." Dumbledore seemed telepathic at times. "Never you mind about your classes, Mr. Malfoy will be sure to read over notes to you every night and you may make up everything in an examination once you have... joined us all again."

Hermione's lips curled into a smirk.

"Albus, I do believe that's a smirk playing on her face." McGonagall spoke in an awed voice.

"Of course, who wouldn't find comfort in knowing that they would be able to catch up in all of their classes without actually having to go to them."

At that, Malfoy turned and fumed out of the room. Never in his life had he thought he'd have to put up with such things as this. He stalked across the common room and into his own room, picked up his satchel and headed off for his potions class. He'd be late, but he'd rather be in the comforts of Snape's room than in this newly found hell.

He didn't have to say a word for the news to spread like wild fire. It was an hour before lunch when the golden trio (minus one of course) and a few other Gryffindorks had crossed his path, determined to push the blame onto him. He'd shot them down, desiring very much to give Potty another scar.

It was like he was cursed. The year had just started off badly. From the train to now every event that Hermione seemed to have happen to her he had just about been in. Except for the Peeves encounter. How he wished he'd have been there when she'd been smacked in the noggin with a vase though, he'd have delighted in that.

"Mr. Malfoy..." Snape's voice drawled from behind him in the Great Hall.

He hunched his shoulders in defeat, awaiting the sharp blow that he knew was going to ooze from his mouth.

"Shouldn't you be checking on Ms. Granger?"

The Slytherin table had quieted upon Snape's arrival at the table, and after he'd delivered his enquirey, the table burst into fits of laughter and sneering. He was a joke, a huge joke, and it was all Granger's fault. She'd pay.. oh yes, she'd pay.

He excused himself from the table and walked as slowly as he possibly could. He was determined to delay himself from getting to the common room until night. However, it seemed as if everything were working against him as Potty and his friend Weasel decided to tag along behind him.

"Feeling sorry for what you've done yet, Malfoy?" Ron hated the blond that lurked before him.

"Feeling sorry? Feeling **sorry**? Don't confuse me with your family, Weasel."

Ron's temper flared, he made to lunge at Draco, but was stopped by Harry almost immediately.

"Sneer all you like, Ferret. At least my father isn't in Azkaban."

Draco flinched slightly. _My father... they always associate me with my father..._

"Laugh all you like Weasel, but even with my father in Azkaban for the past two years, my family still has more money than your family will ever have, even after your father retires from the ministry. Face it. You're nothing, you're family is noth-"

Harry had shoved Draco, sending him to the floor in a sprawl. He pinned him there and held his wand to the back of Draco's head, his face distorted in pure anger and hatred.

"Money isn't everything Malfoy. Like it or not, you're the scum of the earth. We know that you have something to do with what's going on with Hermione an-"

Draco had positioned his hand underneath himself and he pushed up with all of his might, causing Harry to fly off his back and onto his own back. His wand rolled on the floor.

Draco pulled out his own wand and pointed it at Harry.

"I told you that none of this is my fault. Believe what you will, I don't have to explain myself to you, but don't you **ever** take it upon yourself to call me the scum of the earth. You're a mistake, Potter. The only reason why you're so great is all due to a mistake. Don't you ever forget that."

Harry glared at Draco and stood up.

"If I meet Voldemort again this year and you're on his side, Malfoy, I will not hesitate to kill you."

Ron, who had picked up Harry's wand when it rolled, handed the wand back to it's owner. Harry tucked his wand into his robes, swiveled on his left foot and stormed off in the opposite direction, Ron following close behind.

Draco rolled his shoulders, then dusted himself off. He turned and headed a little faster and pointedly towards the head tower.

End of Chapter Seven and Comments- - -

A/N: I'm not J. K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters, if I did, I'd have twenty computers.

Please, please don't hate me. I had a golf field trip last Friday, was busy all weekend long with school work and just yesterday was my eighteenth birthday. I realize that this chapter is a bit short, but I hope it at least makes you guys a bit happy. I shall have another chapter up Friday night.

In other news, an interesting turn of events, no? Hope I haven't made anyone angry with yet another big event and that neverending questioning that hangs in your head. I'd be angry if I were you though. Yep, sure would. I'd probably throw an apple at me or something. Malfoy doesn't seem to be softening up, but appearances aren't always what they seem are they? Hope you guys also catch the humor I tried to throw in. I'll write a one shot challenge fic for the person who catches my humor and points it out first.

As for my reviews, you guys make me a squealing girl. You have no idea how happy it makes me to open my e-mail and see all of the reviews sitting in it. I love you guys for being so supportive and I love that you like what I'm writing.

Well, so long until Friday night!


	8. Chapter Eight

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the despised Gryffindorks room, just that he hadn't moved in what felt like ages and his back was hurting from sitting so long in a wooden chair.

Draco couldn't comprehend what could make a person get so sad, so low, in their life that they'd put their body and minds through a total shut down. Besides that, it was creepy watching someone that you couldn't tell was awake or asleep. She could be dead for all he knew, and he'd probably never be able to tell. Well, scratch that, you could see her chest rise and lower as she inhaled and exhaled.

_It's probably all just a hoax. She's probably just doing this for attention. Stupid mudblood._

"You can snap out of it any time Granger. You can't possibly have that many problems to cause you to get so depressed as this. Besides all that, this is truly rediculous. What do you plan to accomplish lying there? You can't eat, you can't use the lavatory... well I suppose you could still... never mind all that, what I'm saying is, I thought you were a bit more well to do than this. Look at you, just lying there. I bet you aren't really depressed. I bet it's all just a hoax to try and teach me a lesson. Well, the gig is up, mudblood. I've done nothing to you so bad that I'd have to be punished by watching you, so just get out of bed already, you lazy, good for nothing, piece of hippogriff poo..." Hermione's body flinched as a surge of emotion ripped through her. He thought she was faking this, did he? He must really be proud of himself. And why shouldn't he be? He didn't have the same worries that she had. He wasn't always worried about the people around him, stressing over his parents while he was away at school, being shot down by the people he cared for most. No, he didn't have to go through everything with a terrible weight pressing down on his shoulders. The lucky, pompous ass got to do as he pleased, without having to hide what he truly was every summer when he came home from Hogwarts.

She wanted to shout at him; wanted to leap up, grab him by the throat, and tell him what a slimey git he was. But try as she might, she couldn't do much. Her body just twitched with anger and she felt tears well up and spill down her cheeks. How was it that she could cry, but she couldn't open her eyes to glare at the twit?

It was then that she realised how alone she truly was, how powerless she'd become, how out of control everything had gotten. She wished that she could move, that she had a razor or something equally as sharp to cut away the pain that she couldn't control and create one that she could.

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be in this predicament, Malfoy. If you hadn't... Forget it, I'll save my breath for someone who'll appreciate it, someone worth my intelligence."

Her words were sharp and harsh and they stunned both of them. Hermione because up until that point, she hadn't been able to talk; Draco because he hadn't really been expecting a comment in retaliation to his own words.

"Ah, so you can talk now, is that it? Well, do save your breath, I daresay that it reeks and contaminates the air with the essence of mudblood."

He watched as a tear came to a bubble, glistened in the light of the quickly fading day, then rolled down the side of her face toward her temple, and soak into her pillow.

"Do save your tears as well." He smirked. "You don't want to completely dehydrate yourself and die in your sleep now would you? I'd rather enjoy that, but I do believe that your dear friends Potty and Weasel would have trouble enough with it."

He slumped down in the chair, only gaining slight relief in his back, but the hard wood created only more problems for his lower back side.

"Speaking of your obnoxious friends, the next time they threaten me, I'm taking points away from your beloved house. Be thankful I did nothing today when they attacked me on the way up here. How anyone can tolerate them is beyond me, but then again, how anyone can tolerate you is beyond me as well."

"You waste your breath with your cold, ill-spoken words. Threaten and jeer all you want, but come time I can move and do things on my own, you'll be dealing with me as well. Just what were you playing at with sneaking into my room last night, Malfoy? Did you think my request for tolerence funny? What am I saying, of course you did, that's why, even in my distressed state, you came in here late at night and attacked me."

"Sneak into your room? Me? Attack you? I've never heard anything so blasphemous in my entire life! If that's what you believe Granger, than you're much more loony than I thought you to be. Any more irrational accusations to throw at me, because I do feel quite through 'comforting' you today."

"Irrational accusations? The only other people who know the password to get into our dormitory is Dumbledore, the professors, and Madame Pomfrey. None of them would do anything so cruel as to sneak in here in the dead of night, come into my room, and hide away in my lavatory, only to attack me when I found them out. No, you're the only one who could have done it."

Draco couldn't believe the slew of filth coming from the still motionless vegetable in front of him. He'd had enough of everyone's accusations for the day.

"You sit and think on that and let me know when you're done accusing people of acts they never did. I'm done with you."

He stood up and stormed towards the doorway.

"If not you, then who, Malfoy? Hm? Could you tell me that much? Go on, tell me how irrational I am then if you didn't do it."

"No one Granger. No other person had come into these dorms. When I found you this morning... your filthy cat was still shut in your quarters with you. He'd of run out if someone had snuck in, would he not?"

Before she could answer, he left the room. He'd had enough of everyone and their wants and needs for the day. He stalked into his room, kicked off his regulatory black lace up shoes, and threw himself onto his bed, burying his head into his pillow. He let out a frustrated sigh and punched the pillow, then rolled over. Staring up at the ceiling, his mind wandered.

_Why does she think that someone snuck into our dormitory last night? Why does she think that I'd be that ignorant and attack her in the middle of the night?_

On the opposite end of the hall, Hermione's mind was racing as well. It was true that Crookshanks had acted a bit wierd the night before when she'd been attacked, but then, he'd always acted wierd in any situation. Sure he was the type of cat that would attack the thing that meant to attack her, but that didn't mean anything. Perhaps he didn't attack the person because he didn't think of them as a threat. And perhaps the attacker had just forced Crookshanks into staying in the room with her.

She heard a rustling of sorts in her room, then a cool, damp cloth was pressed onto her forehead.

"How are things now for you, Ms. Granger.?"

Hermione was happy to find that it was Madame Pomfrey rather than the previous yellow headed prat.

"They're a little better now, now that I've recovered my voice again."

"That's fantastic, child! You're definitely on your way to a speedy recovery!"

_I hope more than anything else in the world, no the whole galaxy, that that's true..._

End of Chapter 8 and Comments- - -

A/N: I'm not J. K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters, if I did, I'd walk down the red carpet.

Well, some good news and bad news for you all. Good news for me rather then for you. I've been moved in my position in a play that's currently being rehearsed at my school from a second hand part, to a main character. I have to run lines and remember my cue lines by Friday of next week, as well as all of my stage commands, so wish me luck. With that, I mean to say that you may or not get another chapter next week. Cross your fingers, I'll try my hardest to have something for you all.

Thanks for all your lovely reviews once again! Until next time...!


	9. Chapter Nine

It had been a while since Madame Pomfrey had left. Hermione struggled, trying to fall asleep, but her active mind kept her awake. She tossed and turned in her bed, positioning herself every way she could think that might help induce sleep. 

"You're not having a fit, are you?"

He was back. She should have known that he'd be back. His voice was on the edge of concern, but she paid little attention to it.

"No, I'm not having a **fit**, Malfoy." She said grumpily. "I'm." She turned over. "Trying." She scrunched into a ball shape. "To." She turned again, in the other direction. "Get." She rolled over a bit more, this time in the same direction. "Comfortable!" She rolled, but too far, and tumbled off the edge of her bed.

She was helpless, caught in her bed linens, as she fell toward the floor. Strong arms caught her before she hit the floor. Draco made a slight "oompf" as he was jerked a bit downward by her weight.

"You're a lot heavier than I expected you to be... Have you put on weight since you blacked out on the train?"

He was trying to take away much of the awkwardness they both felt, but his question only made Hermione feel more awkward. She'd forgotten about her black out on the train, and she'd never really known that he was the one that had moved her into a compartment. She'd remembered running into him in the train's corridor and then waking up with severe pain in her arm in a compartment with him standing before her, but it had all been fairly blank until now. She'd tried not to think much about that day until now.

"Thanks." It was the only thing she could muster to say. She'd never expected him to help her in anything. "Thanks for saving me twice."

"I'd hardly call it saving you, Granger. I simply helped you out a bit. After all, isn't that what the head boy is supposed to do? Help out his fellow students?"

He set her back on the bed and she heard him take a few steps away. She wriggled and turned, trying to free herself from the linen encasement that she'd caused. He watched in amusement as she tugged and pulled at the sheets and accomplished nothing. She let out a frustrated sigh and pounded her fists into the cloth that surrounded her.

"Watch it, you really might go into a fit."

"If you're still here, and so inclined to help your fellow students, then why don't you help me?"

"I've already helped you twice, people might think I'm showing you favoritism if I help you anymore."

_Favoritism...?_

"Fine then, just leave so that I don't have to worry about making myself look moronic while someone is watching."

"I rather thought you'd be used to doing that by now after hanging with your pathetic friends for so long."

"They're not pathetic, Malfoy. Just because you envy them because they're better than you in every way, doesn't make them pathetic. They care about people, and the well being of every witch and wizard in the wizarding world, even you if it came down to it." He looked down at her. She had her eyebrows furrowed, she truly believed in her friends.

"Yeah, right." He whispered the words without thinking.

"What was that?"

"I said 'yeah, right' Granger. You're friends don't give a flying fart in space about me, how you could even think that is beyond me."

"That's not true! I know them! You-"

"If you know them so well then why did Potter jump me and threaten my life? I know what I'm talking about Granger, get your facts straight."

Her eyes strained, as he watched her face. Tears creeped up and spilled to her pillow. She let out a sob that seemed almost inhuman.

"Harry would never doing anything bad to anyone unless he was provoked. If what you say is true Malfoy, then you brought it on yourself."

"Provoked? **Provoked?** Right, like I had a giant stamp on my forehead that says 'Accuse Me.' They came at me first, Granger. You've all been around each other so long you all think the same. You accused me of attacking you in the middle of the night, they accused me, but does anyone really know the truth? No. It wasn't me! For all I know, the thing could've been a hallucination. You probably made up the attacker in your head. I bet you haven't even realized that you've been moving all this time."

"Moving?" It hit her. She'd been tossing and turning, able to control her fists. She could move! Her eyes shot open and she blinked, removing the blur in her eyes and adjusting them to the light of the room. She looked at Draco, he was glaring at her in nothing more than outright hatred.

"Admit it, Granger. You were just faking it the whole time. You just wanted something to point a finger at me for."

"I'd never do any such thing, and the fact that you'd even fathom something like that proves how little you know me."

"It goes both ways, Granger." His jaw was clenched, his hands pulsated into fists and back open again. If he didn't leave the room, he'd hit her again, and that was something he simply would not allow.

He turned to leave, but she stood up and stopped him before he could.

"Leave me be, and I won't come near you. Deal?"

His body was tense, her hand on his shoulder bothered him in a way he hadn't been bothered before.

Her offer made him smirk.

"Deal."

She released his shoulder and he left the room.

Hermione let out a sigh and sat back down on her bed once more. Somehow, she knew she had just made things ten times worse.

End of Chapter 9 and Comments- - -

A/N: I'm not J. K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters, if I did, I'd own every cd of all of my favorite bands.

I'm back. New chapter. Hope you like it! Love you guys, sorry you had to wait so long!


	10. Chapter Ten

It was raining. The day she could finally attend her classes had come, and she felt as gloomy as the weather. Hermione didn't care for Draco Malfoy, but he was head boy, and that, she felt, meant that they should at least work at being civil to one another. 

Civility. It was funny how something that seemed so natural could be so hard between Gryffindor and Slytherin. They were the noted rivals at Hogwarts, the ones that got in the faces of each other, made each competition hard and dirty, the never ending battle...

She sighed and glanced over the notes that Draco had left in her room that he'd taken for her when she was stuck in her bed. She had potions this morning, and she was less than thrilled to have to see Snape's face as her first professor for the day.

She folded the parchment that contained her notes and put them in her bag, adjusted her robe, and headed down to the great hall for breakfast. She kept her head down, lost in thought, as she walked down the stairs and through the corridors to get to the great hall. It wasn't like her to have these thoughts, these feelings. She hardly knew herself.

The trouble with walking, head down, through crowded corridors is that you're bound to run into someone. If you're lucky, you run into a friend, a familiar face that will tell you it's all okay, and you'll proceed to your common destination together, talking of good times and summer events. Hermione was not so lucky. She slammed into someone rather forcefully, so forcefully that she managed to get knocked back, and dropped her bag, sending it's contents across the corridor. She stood up, rubbing her bottom, preparing to apologize to the person whom she'd run into.

Upon looking up however, she immediately wished she'd have been paying attention. She'd run into the person she'd made a deal with the night before. A deal stating that they'd both stay away from each other, avoid each other like the plague. That person was now sneering at her, his eyes fierce with irritation, his face distorted in annoyance, his stance ready to pummel any person who dared mess with him.

Rather than giving him an apology, Hermione knelt and began to gather the scattered contents of her bag. She was far too flustered to muster so much as a word to Draco, and she feared that if she opened her mouth, a string of words would fall out, rather than the one that she wanted to squeak out.

"Where are your manners?" Malfoy practically snarled.

He'd been angry, but this was just the icing on his cookie. Having to face the one person he'd simply loathed for the past years and that person not apologize for practically knock him over had made the bomb that was slowly ticking away explode. Without a moment's more hesitation, he reached into his robes, pulled out his wand and advanced toward Hermione, who was still picking up the things that had fallen onto the floor. He grabbed her by her hair, causing her to gasp in pain and surprise. He jammed his wand into her throat, determined to make her sorry for running into him.

Hermione's eyes were laced with tears. Thoughts ran through her mind at a rapid speed that the only one that stood out clearly was her fear for her life at this very moment. She looked at his face, distorted in blind rage, and stared at his eyes, which seemed far more focused on her throat. His gaze changed, and finally met her eyes.

It took him a moment to realize what he was really doing. The fear in her eyes was enough to wake up his mind and drag him back to reality. He released her hair and dropped his wand. He stood for a moment, looking at his hands in vast disbelief, before turning and fleeing from Hermione's shocked form.

She couldn't really grasp the events that had just transpired. She stared at the wand that had clattered to the floor. She sat there for a few moments before realizing if she didn't eat now she'd have to without food until lunch. Her stomach growled at her loudly, causing her to quickly finish gathering her things that remained on the floor and get to the great hall. She stopped short though, looking at the wand that was still on the floor. She knew she really should just leave it there for Draco or someone else to find later, that confronting him with it might cause him to freak out again and harm her for sure, but she had to find out what was wrong with him. She needed to know.

She picked up the wand and stuffed it in her bag with the rest of her things and set out for the great hall again.

From the looks on Ron and Harry's faces when she entered the great hall, the news of her recovery hadn't been passed around like a hot potato. They greeted her as warmly as they had her second year, after the terror with the chamber of secrets, when she and a few other students and Mrs. Norris had been petrified because of the basilisk. The two gave her large hugs that seemed to last a lifetime, and for the moment, she felt truly happy.

"It's good to see you're alright again, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed as he released her from his bear hug.

"Thanks Harry, it's good to be back to normal. Well, it'd be better if I didn't have Snape to look forward to for my first class for the start of term."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione laughed at her remark. They were all equally happy and the edge that had lingered for so long between Hermione and Ron after her confession had seemingly diminished as the three of them laughed and talked about their impending classes and the upcoming N.E.W.T.s.

After they'd all stuffed themselves senseless with breakfast they headed for the dungeons for their last year of potions with Professor Snape. Hermione felt both anxious and apprehensive at the same time, knowing that Slytherin shared the class with them and she'd have to give Draco back his wand much sooner than she felt ready to do.

As they entered the class, she felt her breath hitch as she looked around for the blonde hair of the head boy. But it was nowhere to be found, Draco Malfoy wasn't in class. She let out her breath in slight relief in knowing that he wasn't there, that he hadn't shown for his class, but it only made her feel worse and pique her curiousity as to why he wasn't there. She breezed through the first assignment and watched as Ron, as per usual made a bit of a mess of his own potion.

After Snape had peered into each of their cauldrons and administered grades for each of them, they were dismissed, and Hermione decided to go up to her dorm and check in on Draco, feeling at last ready to give back his wand.

She reached the portrait of Sir Cadogan slightly out of breath and mumbled the password, receiving a "Right back at you!" from the flimsy knight as it swung open. She stepped through the doorway and walked into an empty common room.

She walked determinedly down the hall to the shut door of the head boy's quarters lifted her hand to knock, and the door swung open. Her eyes widened in shock as she accidentally knocked on Draco.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't, I mean, well-"

He glared at her coldly.

"Move or be moved."

"What?"

"You aren't deaf Granger," he said, shoving past her. He had his own bag in his hand as he headed swiftly for the portrait.

"Wait!" Hermione reached into her bag and fished out his wand. "You dropped this earlier..."

He turned to face her, the same cold glare on his face.

"You always have to be the goody-goody, don't you Granger. You have to do everything right. Well, let me tell you something. For a long time, I was forced into believing I had to be the same way. I had to be the best at everything, classes, quidditch... I had to have the best clothing, the best materials... I had to mingle with the best wizards, be around the best purebloods... But you know what I found out about the best? It's worthless, has no meaning."

He took swift, large steps and was soon in front of her, so close to her, she could feel his breath on her face.

"Being the best, being the greatest at everything, pretending to be perfect, is boring."

With that he grabbed hold of Hermione's face with both hands and brought it to his own, forcing her into a kiss she hadn't been expecting or wanting. Shocked, she dropped his wand and raised her hands to his chest. She shoved him away, wiping at her mouth as if she'd just tasted sewage water.

"What are you playing at?" She was more disgusted than concerned, every inch of her skin seemed to be crawling.

"Who's playing? I was showing you a taste of normal, a taste of the usual, making you aware that it's okay to not have to pretend."

He knelt down and picked up his wand off the ground and stood up again, putting the wand in the pocket of his robe.

"Who said I was pretending? I study for everything, I go through great lengths to be where I'm at-"

"And look where it's gotten you!" He raised his arms to point out the common room. "Is this what you really wanted to work so hard for?"

"I'll have you know that I'm very comfortable and happy to be where I'm at, Malf-"

"So happy that you have to cut yourself? So happy that you have dillusional dreams that put you into a form a paralysis due to depression?"

It was happening again, she was crumbling. That hollow feeling was coming back.

"I have people around me who care," her voice was cracking, she was close to tears. "And they-"

"And they use you for your studying and homework so that they can get farther in their own lives."

"That's not true! That's not true and you know it!" She was sobbing now, tears seemed to be gushing from her eyes.

"If it's not true than why are you crying? Hm? C'mon Granger, enlighten me. I'd really like to know why your happiness causes you to cry. Causes you to hurt yourself-"

"Stop it! Shut up! Just shut up!"

"Why? Because you can't face yourself?" He grabbed her arms before she could sink to the floor and cover her face. He pulled back the sleeve of her left arm and shoved her scars into her face.

"What brought you to this point? How could you get to that point?"

She was trapped again. He had unknowingly forced her back into that mind frame, the feeling of being trapped.

She stared into his grey eyes, her tears had stopped.

"That. What you're doing right now. That is why I did it." Her voice was lifeless and she felt dead inside.

"What?"

"Demanding what you want from me. I've had that all my life, from everyone. That's why I do it, to escape that feeling. To give in to no person's demands but my own. To satisfy _me_ for once."

Draco lowered her arms and released them. He stared at her, his glare had fallen, and his features were covered in something she'd never known from him before. And without warning much like the kiss, he hugged her.

The new sincerity coming from Draco shocked her, but what shocked her even more was her own actions of hugging him right back. The tears were back again, and matched with the hollow, dead feeling she had inside, a dull ache bore a hole in heart as she realized that this strange confrontation had made her feel again. Had given her a piece of something she'd never known, a kind of quiet understanding that she only shared with the blonde hugging her.

He didn't say a word as she clung to him and sobbed. He'd gotten her to confess to her self infliction, got her to truly face herself. Not to mention scored a kiss in the process at the same time. He knew why he wanted to get her to do it, but he wasn't about to confess anything to her right now, because it would be careless and she wouldn't understand. How could she? She barely understood herself...

End of Chapter 10 and Comments- - - A/N: I'm not J. K. Rowling. I don't own any of the characters.

Tried to make it longer as per request. The end of this chapter didn't end quite how I wanted it to, but hopefully you guys are wondering what Draco's up to. Hope you liked this chapter. And to those of you in the States, Happy 4th of July! Only twelve more days until Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince! I can't wait!


End file.
